


Little Pebbles

by beargirl1393



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-30 01:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10149929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: Dain is a good with kids. The dwarves of the Iron Hills have known this since Dain himself was a child. The dwarves of Erebor are surprised, but the Company adapts quickly.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sansûkh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855528) by [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/pseuds/determamfidd). 



> This is based off of a tumblr post, found here: https://determamfidd.tumblr.com/post/145590216883/just-thinking-about-dain-going-around-visiting  
> All canon characters belong to Tolkien, any OCs that are mentioned are property of determamfidd, from their wonderful story Sansukh (seriously, if you're in this fandom and somehow haven't read it yet, you really should because it's amazing!). The hc came from kailthia, I just thought it was a cute idea.  
> I wanted to try out a new style of writing. Not sure if I'll keep to it, but it was nice to try something different. Anyway, enough rambling, enjoy the story!

Dain had always been good with young dwarves.

At first, he had visited the homes of those orphaned by the battled of Azanulbizar. He was still little more than a child himself in the eyes of their people, but he was also their new king. Time refused to halt so that he could grieve, he needed to pick up the pieces and move on, to save his grief until he was alone or with his cousins.

The children he visited, however, he encouraged to express their emotions. Some were now the heads of their families, looking after a younger sibling or just trying to take care of themselves. Others had parents in the infirmary, with their fates less certain and with fees from the healers waiting in the wings. Dain made time in his schedule every day to sit with several of the orphaned children, letting them talk to him and helping them to grieve properly. In a way, it helped him to process his own grief, to deal with his parents’ deaths and he promised himself that he would be a good king, to take care of their people as his parents had taught him before their deaths.

As the years passed and the orphans aged along with him, Dain realized that, although he would still do his best for any of his people, he enjoyed spending time with children. They were curious, happy, and generally he could solve their small problems with a story or a sweet. Even after he stopped visiting the orphans from the war, Dain still made time each week to visit schools or nurseries, to spend time with young dwarves.

After he had married, Thira had shook her head indulgently when she learned of the habit but hadn’t even attempted to stop him. It was one of the things she loved about her husband, his heart. Thorin went along with Dain a few times, mostly when he was a baby. As their son grew older, and seemed to share at least part of Thira’s shyness, Dain was once more left to his rounds on his own, but he didn’t mind. They all had their own strengths, after all.

By the time that Thorin called for his help, it was an established routine in the Iron Hills. Twice a week, the king would make a visit to a school or nursery, to play with the dwarflings. Which school or nursery he would visit was usually randomly decided, but all of the teachers knew of Dain’s habit and didn’t mind him stopping by. The parents and guardians of the dwarflings had been asked, of course, and none of them minded. All were a bit stunned, at first, that the king would take time out of his fairly busy schedule to come to read to their children, but none of them objected.

It was an established pattern in the Iron Hills, one that no one even thought twice about anymore as it had been happening for decades, and Dain didn’t stop when he arrived in Erebor.

None of the Iron Hills dwarves had said a word about the habit, so the Ereborean dwarves were in for a shock.

* * *

 

Bombur made his way to the nursery where his youngest children stayed while he and Alrís were working. The elder children either had jobs or apprenticeships, but for the few youngest ones, it was hard for either he or Alrís to keep them with them while they were working. Now that they had coin to spare, they could afford to pay for a nursery school, and so Albur and Bibur went to the Little Pebbles nursery during the day.

Dwalin’s second in command, Orla Longaxe, had made the recommendation of that particular nursery when she had overheard him discussing the matter with Dwalin one day. He wasn’t sure how the Blacklock dwarrowdam had heard of the place, but it was a good suggestion. The boys came home happy, babbling about the variety of things they learned each day, and by this point Bombur had nearly forgotten the small, slightly amused, smile Orla had when she had given the recommendation.

The reason for that smile was revealed when Bombur walked into the nursery that day, stopping dead as he saw the new king of Erebor, Dain Ironfoot himself, sitting on the floor and reading a book to the assembled dwarflings. One little dwarrowdam was sitting in his lap, turning the pages of the book for him and thus in prime position to see the sketches in the book before any of the other children. Another dwarfling, a little lad, was standing behind Dain and working on fixing a paper crown on their king’s head. A third dwarfling was sitting beside them, petting one of Dain’s many pet piglets.

Bibur and Albur, Bombur noted, were both entirely focused on Dain and the story he was reading. Both boys were at the age when they were restless if they had to stay still for more than a few minutes, but they were both entirely riveted. All of the dwarflings were attentive, occasionally interrupting to ask a question but otherwise just sitting and listening to the story, and Bombur was amazed. It took a lot of skill or practice to look that natural surrounded by a crowd of children, and from the look of things, this wasn’t the first time it had happened. Oh, it was likely the first time that it had happened since the boys had joined the nursery, but this wasn’t something that had happened overnight.

Later, he would learn that Orla had known all about Dain’s habit of visiting nursery schools, and that Little Pebbles was ones of his favorites. He would also learn that Dwalin was in on Orla’s little joke, and ensure that his friend didn’t get any of his special batch of hobbit biscuits when he made them again as a small form of payback.

Right now, however, Bombur just crept back out of the room as quietly as he entered, smiling faintly as he headed to sit on one of the benches outside. His lads would be able to find him easily once the story was over, they were bright boys, and he didn’t want to do anything to disrupt the end of the class. If this was a way for Dain to relax when the pressure of ruling got to be too much, even for a seasoned ruler such as himself, then Bombur wasn’t going to do anything to interrupt that. He did decide to let a little of what he’d learned slip to Alrís once the kids were in bed, and that was likely how the tradition of having Dain over for dinner whenever he looked particularly overworked started.

After all, their family was large, and a few of their older children had already continued their line, so there would always be a little one or two underfoot, always willing to play with Dain and ask him all about his pigs, the Iron Hills, and anything else that came into their little heads.

Dain, for his part, knew exactly what was going on, but he never said a word. Bombur was a good friend, and besides, no one in the mountain would turn up food at Bombur’s home, especially not on the nights when the whole Company would converge and each would bring a different dish. Even Dís could be persuaded to join them at times, and all privately thought that it did her as much good as it did Dain.

Dain never stopped visiting nurseries and schools, including Little Pebbles, and up to the day he died, it was something of an open secret in the mountain. And, if a few of the schools’ class pets, which were usually piglets donated by Dain, ended up dressed in mourning clothes on the day of the funeral…well, they all thought that Dain would appreciate it, if he could see them from the Halls.


End file.
